


you can easily do this

by gemedia



Category: Brooklyn (2015)
Genre: 1950's setting, F/M, First Meeting, Fluff, Strangers to Lovers, Tony's POV, he's just a guy in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 13:50:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20707064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemedia/pseuds/gemedia
Summary: tony goes to the irish dance every sunday and each time he has left alone.





	you can easily do this

**Author's Note:**

> this is a remediation of the 'irish dance' scene~

It’s the 8th Sunday in a row that he’s here. He knows it’s a bad idea, lord help him getting to the job on the burst toilet pipe at 7am tomorrow, but it’s become routine at this point.

He’s not the only one stuck in this cycle though. Blonde hair, she’s still wearing the same dress as last week. That tall scrawny man is still trying to chat up the long-haired brunette. Nothing changes. The music feels stale and the atmosphere is beginning to feel less like a tantalising yellow and more a murky dark blue, unpleasant and droning. Coming out here was exhilarating in one way and exhausting in another.

But he doesn’t lose hope, if the 7 previous Sundays are to tell him anything, it’s that today something is _different_.

A dress he doesn’t recognise, awkward feet, endearing concentration, and a glowing head of red hair. He’s made this mistake before, so he waits his turn, just to make sure. And just like every other newcomer he’s seen; she’s left standing by her lonesome as her so called ‘partner’ turns his unfaithful eyes to another woman.

She looks taken aback, and so he begins his walk, approaching with care, for the last thing he wants is to make it 9 Sundays in a row.

“Are you here with that guy?” he asks, being as suave yet nonchalant as he can, “the one who was teaching you how to dance.”

She turns her attention to him, shaking her head and uttering back the gentlest “no.”

Frankly, it didn’t matter what answer she gave, seeing her soft, kind face was enough for him to completely fall, “so would you dance with me?”

Her expression relaxes, “I’m not sure he taught me anything.” She responds in a warm Irish accent.

“Doesn’t matter, secret is to look as though you know what to do.” He says with a little more cheekiness this time.

With a small grin brimming, she once again uses that charming accent “I wish someone had told me that years ago.”

Leaving him feeling almost giddy, he returns the grin and with a little ‘come on’, takes her hand, leading them further into the dancing bodies.

The music changes to a slower ballad, and the bodies begin swaying instead. With one hand on the small of her back and the other intertwined with hers, he takes this moment to appreciate the refreshing feeling of finally meeting someone new. She was a little taller than him, but perhaps it was just the heels. He didn’t mind. It meant she could rest her chin on his shoulder with ease. She was so close, and for someone who was a stranger but a few verses ago, he felt comfortable. It didn’t take long for his mind to start wandering. ‘How about if we went on a few dates? What about maybe living together? Would marriage seem crazy?’

Too far, too fast.

But he just had a feeling. A feeling that he would give anything and everything to this beautiful woman.

All in good time, he figured.

“Where do you live?” he asked turning his face slightly to look at her.

“Clinton street.”

“That’s on my way home,” unable to stop the smile spreading across his cheeks, the words coming out of his mouth were being spoken faster than his brain could comprehend, “can I walk you?”

She kept steady eye contact with him, making him feel slightly flustered. Regaining his confidence, he glanced down to her lips before returning to her eyes, taking her hand in his as they made their way across the dance-floor to door.

* * *

Undeniably swooning at this point, the brisk outdoors of New York in the late winter months had little effect on him. Although, he noticed how she was crossing her arms tightly across her body, trying her best to avoid the cold air waiting to seep into her warm jacket. Would it be strange to put his arm around her? They just met! …But she looks cold!

No, the last thing he wanted to do was to make her feel uncomfortable. He decided against it, keeping his hands firmly in his jacket’s pockets.

They walked along a street filled with quaint city apartments and slowed to a stop in front of one with a small fence running along the front, “This is me.”

Turning to face her front on, he looks back at her fondly. The way he felt tonight is why he bothered coming back each week. All the times he was rejected and had to walk back in the bitter cold alone, it was worth it for the woman standing in front of him now.

“Can I take you next week? Maybe get something to eat first.” he adds.

She looks back at him with sparkling eyes, he hopes with at least half of the same pounding heart that he is feeling.

“That’d be nice. Goodnight.” she says simply, before turning around to open the creaky gate. Watching as she walks along the short path, he doesn’t take his eyes off of her until she’s inside safely. He begins to walk back in the same direction as they came, insides tingling pleasantly, and he re-enacts the evening in his head. Truthfully, his home is in the other direction, but he would rather walk her back home than make it 9 Sundays in a row.

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a cheeky piece i wrote because i genuinely just love brooklyn so very much. i always wondered what it would be like from tony's perspective, so i hope this is somewhat good if you were wondering too~ heh


End file.
